


Motorola StarTAC

by morphia



Category: Marvel Cinematic Universe, The Avengers (Marvel Movies)
Genre: Alcoholism, M/M, Post-Captain America: Civil War (Movie), Tony Feels, Tony Has Issues, Tony Stark Needs a Hug
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-06-03
Updated: 2016-06-03
Packaged: 2018-07-12 02:08:15
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 763
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7080307
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/morphia/pseuds/morphia
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Tony drinks until he can summon the courage to call Steve.<br/>Or: It's a feelsy phone-fic.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Motorola StarTAC

**Author's Note:**

> This fic was written by [the wonderful Shira](http://tony--spark.tumblr.com/).  
> Since she wrote it in Hebrew, I felt it was my duty to bring this fic into the world of English speakers.  
> And since she does not own an AO3 yet, I am posting in her name, with permission. 
> 
> GO LAVISH HER WITH LOVE!

It happened halfway through a bottle of Whiskey, that Tony approached the piano. He hadn't touched it in years, but sometimes your muscles remember what your heart has already forgotten a long time ago. He pressed the keys gracelessly. Mother always said he wasn't sitting straight enough and that he isn't flexing his fingers enough. But, he was drunk just then, so mom-laws didn't apply. He improvised an artless piece he's had stuck in his head since morning. Something of a fusion of old records and a flimsy breathing rhythm.

Into the second half of the bottle, he decided to call. His fingers fumbled the keys. Really? A Motorola shell? He listened to the bone-freezing dial tone. Every long rattling had fear sneaking down his throat.

"Tony." His deep, wide awake tone came through the line. "I… I didn't think you'd call."

"Neither did I, but here he are." Tony pressed two keys tiredly, trying to restart the music he'd stopped, in more than one sense. "In my defense, it's urgent." 

A long, tense silence followed. It took Tony a few quiet seconds to realize Steve was waiting to hear what he had to say.

"I've had time to think," he said slowly, his free hand still playing.

"It's been five months," Steve said dryly. "What's the urgent matter you called for?" 

Tony stopped playing and stared ahead, into the darkness reflected in the window. It was maybe three in the morning, or maybe four. 

"Why are you awake?" Tony suddenly asked.

"I could ask you the same question," Steve answered quietly.

The night's darkness drew Tony into a long silence.

"Tony?"

"I've missed you, Rogers," he said, a sad, whiskey filled smile tilting his lips. "Ever since you left, I've been feeling a severe lack of someone to get on my nerves."

"I'm sure you'll find a replacement for me pretty fast," Steve said on a chuckle. The line distorted his laughter into a metallic bark, nothing like his deep, warm laughter. How he missed him.

"So this is exactly the emergency I'm talking about, Steve. You have no replacement. Who's going to be pretty enough to distract me from work?" And okay, it wasn't his smoothest attempt, but in his defense, he had most of the whiskey from that bottle in him. Steve laughed again, warmer this time. He sounded embarrassed.

"I miss you too, Tony. You really are irreplaceable." Steve took a deep breath across the line. It made Tony shiver. Dormant memories of near kisses, near touches, and now after all that's happened, his breathing was almost the same, only processed through plastic and metal. "Tony I… You know how sorry I am, but…"

"No," Tony cut him off sharply. "You don't need to apologize again. It's bad for your character. It's just… I just wanted to hear your voice." He regretted saying this immediately.

"Huh." Steve sounded both surprised and flustered.

"I gotta go," Tony said abruptly. "It's getting late and I have stacks of paperwork I've been neglecting for the past couple of days."

"Err… Yeah, well. You care about paperwork now. That's how it is," Steve teased.

"You have no idea," Tony grumbled and chuckled nervously. "So I'll see you arou-"

"Tony," Steve spoke over him, his tone soft, searching. "I know it's going to take time," he said quietly, "but I want you to know that I don't want to lose you. You mean a lot to me." 

Tony could feel his pulse in this throat.

"I haven't seen you in so long, but I can clearly see you sitting at the living room piano. I could hear you playing earlier. You never played it before. I think you're healing, Tony."

He could feel tears stinging in his eyes, and a lump in his throat. Steve continued talking.

"I want to see you again, so much, but it will take more time. I hope we'll get there. There isn't a person in the world I want to see more, right now." 

Tony was breathing heavily. He was scared of answering, in fear of ruining the moment.

"I look forward to talking with you again," Steve summarized quickly. "You can call me at any time. Good night."

The line dropped sharply. The magic dissipated. Tony stared at the ugly Motorola. This item just became the most precious device in the entire complex. Tony set it gently in the drawer and returned to the piano. Straight backed and flexed fingers. When he sees Steve again, this would be a finished piece, and it would be for him.


End file.
